


Accidents Happen

by e_katara



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Florist AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_katara/pseuds/e_katara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standing outside the flower shop at five thirty in the morning, Miller contemplated all of the places he'd rather be than there. Prison. The moon. A deserted island. The rim of an active volcano.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents Happen

Nathan Miller was pissed off.

Honestly, this was absolutely, completely and utterly unfair to him.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn't  _that_  unfair. He  _had_  taken his dad's car for a joyride with Bellamy. And they  _did_ crash into the Green's Florist van. And that  _might_  have left a sizable dent in the automobile and stuck the Green family's son with a broken arm.

Still, though. This punishment felt extreme, if you asked him. His parents could have grounded him! He would have been fine with that. Or they could have given his allowance to the Greens for however long it took to pay off the damages. He could totally live with that. But no, they had to set up an arrangement with the Greens - he would work in their shop before and after school three days a week, and his paycheck would go directly to the cost of fixing their van, and his parents would match whatever he earned to help pay for their son's medical bills, too. That meant that Miller was off the water polo team - a fate worse than death, if you asked him. Without the team, he'd never get to work out, his social life was basically over, and that girl, Sara, from the cheerleading team? She would never,  _ever_  talk to him. This was basically the end of the world.

Standing outside the flower shop at five thirty in the morning, Miller contemplated all of the places he'd rather be than there. Prison. The moon. A deserted island. The rim of an active volcano. The list went on and on, and he didn't realize that he'd been standing there, staring at the door silently, until it opened.

"Nathan Miller?"

It came from a guy about his age, maybe a little younger, with straight hair that stuck out in tufts all over the place. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that was probably about two sizes too big - probably so he could get it on over the cast on his left arm.

"Yeah, uh, you're... Monty, right?"

"Yup!" he said with a cheerful grin. "Come on in. There's not a lot to do in the mornings. It's just, set up displays, fill any orders for the day. Easy stuff, really."

Miller wasn't totally sure what he'd been expecting from the guy. Anger, probably, for breaking his arm. Annoyance that they had to be working together, maybe. Definitely not this. The whole cheerful, polite, friendly thing was throwing him for a loop.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "About, y'know, the arm thing. And everything else."

"It's no big deal. Well, okay, yeah, the cast kind of sucks, majorly, and it makes everything  _super_  annoying, but whatever."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "Shit happens. I've been on the other end of accidentally injuring people a couple times - well, my best friend and I have - so it's not really something that I'm going to get upset over. What goes around comes around, y'know?"

"I - Okay. I guess... Wait. How the hell did _you_ accidentally injure someone?"

Monty grinned. "Bottlerockets, my friend."

Huh.

They didn't really talk much after that. Monty mostly organized flower displays, occasionally giving Miller tips for the future - what colors worked well together, which flower shapes complemented each other, what different flowers symbolized, all kinds of shit Miller never, ever thought he'd have to learn. More than once, he caught himself staring at Monty's hands - well, hand, as it were, as one of them was still in a cast - as he arranged bouquets and vases, long fingers moving quickly, nimbly. In a way, it was kind like watching an artist at work. Each time he caught himself, though, he shook his head and went back to what he was doing - generally, either taking inventory, or sulking.

In no time at all, it was almost seven, and Monty's parents showed up. His dad went to work opening the shop, and his mom drove the two of them to school, giving Miller strict instructions on where he needed to be after school was out to be picked up.

"Sorry about my mom. She's a bit less easygoing than I am. Also the whole, you getting stuck working with us thing. It must suck to have to give up your free time like that. If there's anything I can do to make it a little easier, let me know. See you later."

Then, some scrawny kid in goggles waved at Monty, and he ran to walk with his friend, leaving Miller feeling lonely in a weird sort of way. Then, Bellamy came up behind him, cracked a joke about flowers, and he went on with his day.


End file.
